Happy Birthday to Me!

It’s August 06 already! I have now been in rural, agrarian India for a full thirty nine days – oh, I should exclude the eight days that I spent in Hyderabad, being nursed by my parents. How time flies, indeed! Time flies, or at least crawls, in Umarkhed too - though it may be hard to believe that this place has moved on anywhere beyond the India of the 1970s. What best describes the political economy of India is its dualistic economy and the deep-rooted inequity, and Umarkhed is a raw example that stands out in that vein. What would I describe the services sector to consist of here? Private, tutorial classes, may be. The children of the men who run these classes can be seen zooming around the town in their Bajaj Pulsar motorbikes in the morning and in the evenings, while a few lucky children of agricultural labourers take the morning, rickety bus to college, hoping to get away from that depressing, underpaid work their parents do and what they also contribute to, at least for a while.

Oh, this blog is supposed to be about my birthday! So, today is the day the US government decided to bomb Hiroshima. History tells us that Japan had already sent out signals of a possible surrender, but they were still bombed, and then bombed again three days later. Japan became the US’ laboratory to test its nuclear prowess. And, in the midst of this depressing period, forty three years later, I was born to a Scientist-father and homemaker-mother. That’s right – I will turn twenty-seven, two days from now. My father, at this age, was already a father to a child (my brother), and was employed full-time in a federal position, and here I am, studying in the final year of an MPhil (British/Indian qualification)-equivalent programme. Well, my father had not worked for two years, prior to earning his MS, so I should count that in my favour and give myself some credit. But then I hardly went through the extremely difficult childhood that he did in rural/shanty town urban India – so that leaves nothing to be discounted in my favour. In a world, where we understand through comparisons, I think I would not be much of a success by many standards. So, I should stop comparing.

In this part of agrarian India, sometimes, capital, in money form, fails to buy out labour. Capitalists – owners of land, in this case, blame the laziness of people unwilling to sell their labour. They remark with a look of disgust on their face that these good-for-nothings would rather play poker on the village corner, and get drunk and beat their wives up, instead of selling their labour to the landowners (at throwaway prices). Of course, this does not go on forever. After all, for how long can you act like an ostrich and pretend that your frail wife can help you meet your household expenses on her meagre $1-a-day wage? How long can you run away from your miseries – the realization that no matter how backbreaking your labour may be, you will not beat the trap of poverty because landowners usually have an edge in depressing wage rates in their village? So, men in the village do end up looking for work after all, and add another two or three dollars to that wage bundle, may be, three to four times a week. That money gets them a semblance of nutritious food on the floor, which they eat. Ah, now let’s leave the details for my thesis, but my point is that at twenty-seven, I have clearly achieved a bit - after all, I did sweat out in order to be born to the right kind of parents. See, it takes a lot of effort to try and not be born as a girl child to casual labourers or agricultural labourers in Umarkhed, where a combination of capitalist agriculture and patriarchy marginalizes them every day of the week, and every second of the hour.

Finally, gift time! I have been thinking of what I could gift myself on my birthday. I just called up my father, and I was telling him that I have finally understood what I want to do for my PhD – not that I have the slightest clue which university will open its doors for me, and which professor will be my supervisor. I used to think of myself as a researcher in urban studies, or may be in gender studies, until I carried out my first-ever, rural, household survey. I fell sick in Umarkhed, went back home, came back to Umarkhed, and started my survey, only to realize that this is the ‘place’ I’d like to learn more about – these occupations of the people, their lifestyles, their struggles. I’d like to add more to the list, but then has this post not become too ‘technical’ already? And now, I need to get ready to leave for my field (Marsul village), for my last visit of the season. I am sure the village government folks will have a nice explanation for everything that I think is way too wrong there. And I will diligently listen to them, and get back to the college. On the way back, I will look at the stretch of lush green fields from the motorbike, that has been created by the labour of marginal farmers and agricultural labourers – those necessary ‘spots’ on that seemingly beautiful canvas.